


Sliding Into Place

by Claire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, Multi, Victoria taking the lead, sub!peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:11:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5378129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which two hunters walk into a club, and find a wolf on his knees</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sliding Into Place

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an imaginesteenwolf prompt: Imagine having a threesome with Chris and Victoria Argent, and she is telling you both what to do

There's part of Peter that's wondering what the hell he's doing, part of him saying that he should turn around, leave now before it's too late. Even though the rest of him knows it was already too late the moment he nodded his head, the moment Victoria Argent asked and he answered. Knows it was too late from the moment they set foot in the club.

And he hadn't expected to see them there, hunters walking into the one place he feels at peace, the one place where he can kneel and obey and just let go. He hadn't anticipated the soft scent of wolfsbane and gun oil to wash over him. And his first thought had been to flee, to run, to leave the club and deny that two people so adept at killing his kind had seen him on his knees with his throat bared.

But he hadn't. He hadn't run and they hadn't approached him, not then.

It took weeks for them to finally reach out to him, weeks of watching him. Weeks of the scents he associated with them to be overlaid with the arousal they didn't bother to hide from him.

Victoria approached him first, careful words and considered tone. And when he'd asked her what they wanted, she'd responded with only a single word.

"You."

He'd left her standing in the middle of the club, sought out the first one who had offered to make him stop thinking.

It had been Chris who'd seen him afterwards, as the marks were still healing on his skin, and the scent of a stranger's come hung heavy in Peter's senses. He'd handed Peter the bottle of water he was holding, asked if Peter needed anything else, backing away as Peter shook his head.

It became a constant. Peter, giving himself over to someone else, and either Chris or Victoria checking in with him afterwards. And somewhere along the line, Peter's wolf accepted it, wanted it, preened under the attention the two of them gave him.

And then Victoria asked, asked the one question Peter had been both needing and dreading.

"Will you be ours, Peter?"

And it led him here, led to him standing in a hunter's bedroom, as Victoria settles on the chair against the wall. Chris is behind him, and Peter can feel the warmth coming from his body as he presses against Peter's back.

"Strip him, Chris," Victoria says. "I want to see our wolf."

Chris' arms reach around Peter, slowly opening each of the buttons on his shirt before finally slipping the garment off and dropping it to the floor.

"Boots, pup." Chris' voice is low, heavy.

Peter toes the unlaced boots off, nudging them to one side with a bare foot.

"Good boy."

Peter shivers at the praise, shivers at the two words that slip from Chris' lips so easily.

There are fingers at his jeans, teasing the button there, but not opening it.

"Tell me, Peter," Chris says, "are you wearing anything under here? Will I have another layer to peel off you?"

Peter shakes his head. "No."

Chris' free hand cups Peter's chin, gently lifting his face from where it's dropped until he's looking at Victoria.

"Such a slutty pup." The words are careful, fond; Victoria's lips smiling around them. "I'd like to see you in lace, Peter."

Chris' hand moves away from Peter's chin, dropping down to rub at the straining denim at Peter's crotch. The touch is light, too light, and Peter finds himself pushing into it.

Victoria's still talking, about soft colours and pastels, about pretty delicate pinks and blues to cup Peter's cock and balls.

"You'd wear them for us, wouldn't you, pup," Chris comments, finally snapping open the button on Peter's jeans, slowly lowering the zip before gently fishing Peter's hard cock out.

"Wear them when we tell you; a little secret under your clothes that no one else knows about but us," Victoria adds.

And Peter can imagine it, can imagine wearing the panties, lace rubbing against his skin.

Chris' fingers wrap around Peter's cock. "I can see you like the idea, pup."

"Go softly, Chris," Victoria requests, and Peter can't stop the whine from rising in his throat as Chris' touch lightens to barely there. "Ssh, Peter, we'll get you there."

Chris starts to move his hand, the caress over Peter's skin maddeningly light. Peter's hips hunch forward, chasing the touch, and Chris' other hand clamps onto Peter's hip, holding him against Chris' body.

"Go faster, but just a bit."

Chris speeds up at Victoria's words, his thumb brushing over Peter's cockhead to gather the precome there, slicking it over Peter's skin to ease the way.

The catch of skin against skin isn't there now that Chris' fingers are covered in Peter's precome, gliding over Peter's cock.

"Please--" The word slips out, unbidden.

But Chris doesn't move any faster, just keeps the same steady pace, too light against Peter's desire.

"Look at me, Peter."

It's not until he hears Victoria's voice that Peter realises his eyes have drifted closed, shutting out what's around him to focus on Chris' touch. He forces his eyes open, meets Victoria's gaze.

Her legs are spread as she watches them, as she watches her husband behind Peter. Her skirt is hitched up, and her fingers are running slowly over her panties. Peter can smell her arousal, smell the slick inside of her.

"Can you smell her, pup?" Chris asks, even though Peter is sure he already knows the answer. He's a hunter, they both are. They both know the extent of a wolf's senses, both know that Peter's swimming in it right now, in the flood of need and want and desire coming from all of them.

The air is thick on Peter's tongue, and he can almost taste the two of them, _wants_ to taste the two of them. He wants to be on his knees with his tongue buried in Victoria, her juices slicked over his lips. He wants to be in front of Chris, mouth stretched wide around his cock, a mixture of precome and saliva running over his chin. He wants to kneel for them, knowing exactly what it would mean for a wolf to drop to their knees before a hunter.

"I--"

But the words won't come. They're stuck in Peter's throat, weighed down by the knowledge that the fingers currently wrapped around him have been stained red by the blood of others like him, by the thought of his pack, of his alpha, of Talia.

"I--"

And Victoria is moving before the word has even died in the air, there in front of him as she grips his chin.

"Stay with us, Peter," she orders softly, like she knows what he's thinking, like she can hear the words Peter can't say. "You don't need to think of anything beyond this."

She holds his gaze for long moments, and Peter doesn't know what she sees, but she finally lets go of him, finally steps back. She glances at Chris, a slight curl to her lips as she tells him, "Harder."

And even if the words couldn't make their way past the rocks in Peter's throat, the whine can. Chris' grip on him tightens as he speeds up, stripping Peter's cock.

"Just let go, Peter." Chris' voice is low in his ear, words soft like honey. "Trust yourself to us. Trust us."

And god help him, he does. Even though he's in a room with two people who have been trained to kill his kind, who _have_ killed his kind, he still trusts them. Trusts the hands they reached out with when they first saw him on his knees.

Victoria steps close again, reaches up and cups his cheeks with her hands. "That's it, Peter. Such a good boy for us."

And he doesn't know if it's Victoria's words or Chris' touch, doesn't know if it's the praise sinking into his body or the hand roughly jerking him, but it's washing over Peter like a tidal wave, picking him up and carrying him forward. He shudders in Chris' hold as he comes, white splattering against the black of Victoria's skirt.

Chris holds him through it, the hand not wrapped around Peter's still spurting cock rubbing soothing circles on his stomach. Peter feels drained, like he's emptied himself completely into Chris' hand, onto Victoria's skirt. He leans back against Chris, steadying himself, but the huff of low laughter in his ear tells him Chris knows exactly what he's doing.

Victoria swipes a finger through the mess on her skirt, lifting it to her mouth to taste Peter's come. She licks her finger clean before gathering up more come, holding her covered finger out to Chris. "Do you want to taste our pup, Chris?"

Peter feels Chris nod, feels him lean forward slightly to take Victoria's finger into his mouth. Her finger is spit slick when she pulls it back, when she runs her hand through Peter's hair.

"Normally, Peter, I'd have you on your knees, cleaning your mess up with your tongue."

Peter shivers at her words, feeling the urge to kneel, to lap his come off Victoria's skirt until it's clean again. And then to nudge his face under the fabric, to lick her until she's falling apart around his tongue.

"But I think we've done enough tonight."

Victoria moves away, stripping quickly out of her clothes and placing them in a hamper next to the wall. She pulls on an old t-shirt that's too big for her, and Peter wonders if it used to belong to Chris.

She's holding two other shirts when she comes back to them, waiting as Chris carefully manoeuvres Peter over to the bed and sits him down. Victoria kneels and tugs Peter's jeans off him while Chris is changing, putting on one of the shirts Victoria had, and waiting until Peter's naked before slipping the other over his head.

Peter knows this one is Chris', can smell gun oil and cologne and Chris in the very pores of the fabric.

"Tomorrow," Victoria's saying, as Chris is pulling back the covers, settling into the bed and tugging Peter back to lie so he'll be between them. "Tomorrow, I think we'll see how well you take Chris' cock."

"I can't wait to be in you, pup," Chris adds, as Victoria slides into the bed. "Can't wait to mark you up and fill you with my come."

And, oh, Peter wants that, wants to be marked and claimed and covered in both Chris and Victoria. He wants every wolf to be able to smell it, wants his pack to scent him and know exactly what his decision was.

"You're ours, Peter," Victoria says. "For as long as you want it."

Theirs. A wolf belonging to hunters, _kneeling_ for hunters. He shouldn't want to give himself over to their hands, shouldn't trust them with everything he is. But he does. And, somehow, Peter's just fine with that.


End file.
